


At Day's End

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Asexual Character, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Roommates, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Friday night ritual that soothes them both after a long week spent dealing with the stresses of school and work and <i>people</i>.  It has nothing to do with romance.  </p><p>It has everything to do with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Day's End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jack_the_giantkiller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_the_giantkiller/gifts).



> Written for Jack-the-Giantkiller's birthday. They wanted platonic Lydia + Stiles with one or both being ace. 
> 
> I rewrote so much of this while writing it because I kept trying to make it obvious that Stiles is Ace by writing it into the text but it felt completely wedged in no matter how I wrote it. So I took it out and I prefer it this way -- there's no reason for either of them to mention it because they know everything about each other. 
> 
> Of course, then I reread the fic this morning and winced because wow, it seems like a very shippy fic. I dunno. I just think Stiles would do anything to get his hands on Lydia's hair, lol.

The sound of the door opening made Stiles look up. The pencil he’d been tapping absently against the table went still, his hand automatically shoving it into his book to mark his place. His chair clattered against the tiles as he jumped from it in a rush to get to the door. 

“Lydia Martin, my strawberry blonde goddess. Love of my life,” he exclaimed with the same enthusiasm that had marked his teenage years. Instead of a haughtily lifted nose and a cold shoulder, however, what he received now was a soft hug and a press of slightly tacky lips to his cheek. 

Lydia sighed, slumping against him. Her bag swung around, hitting him in the thigh, and she pulled back with a moue of apology before pressing her fingers to her forehead. “Are people getting stupider or–?” 

“I keep telling you, Lyds.” He took the heavy bag from her shoulder, bringing it to the couch and setting it down before turning back to watch her remove her stilettos. He honestly had no idea why she wore them; whenever he asked, she’d just smile sweetly and murmur about murder walks. 

He didn’t ask often. 

“The more knowledge you gain, the less there is for the rest of us poor mortals. You’re sapping our intelligence, one equation at a time.” He cackled as she just scrunched her nose, eyes rolling wearily. 

“I know that’s not how it works, but today? I’m willing to suspend my disbelief because I can literally feel the IQ dropping in the general populace. I need wine. Wine, chocolate, a foot massage, and Netflix.” 

Stiles hummed and made his way into their small kitchenette as Lydia went to change clothes. He was still cutting wedges of cheese from a questionably-old block when she reappeared, makeup free and wearing flannel pajamas. Her hair still hung loose down her back; her hair brush was held clenched in her fist, though she turned and tossed it into the living room. 

She moved around him, grabbing the wine glasses in one hand and the opened bottle of red wine in the other, bringing them to the living room while Stiles followed with the cheese, olives, and crackers. Two chocolate bars were propped on top, still in their wrappers to protect them from the olive juice. 

When everything was arranged, Stiles sat back in their deep-seated sofa, legs crossed, and waited for her to perch in front of him. Reaching forward, he grabbed the hair brush she already held extended toward him and waited while she rearranged the food platter to give them each access. 

As he ran the brush through her hair, carefully freeing the snarls that had developed during the day, she started talking about her classes, the ones she was taking for her own degree as well as the one she was a TA for. He made noises in appropriate places, but this time was hers for speaking. 

Once her hair was gleaming and snarl free, he continued stroking the brush through it in slow, even, steady pulls, letting the rhythm and comfort of the motions soothe her. Finally she sighed and leaned forward, picking up the glasses and pouring the wine, handing one back to him. 

Lydia rearranged herself on the sofa, snuggling into the corner while shoving her feet in his lap. “They aren’t going to massage themselves.” 

Stiles clutched at his chest with one hand, popping an olive into his mouth with the other. Sucking the pimento from the center, he chewed and swallowed before saying with all due drama, “As my queen commands!” 

Kicking his thigh lightly, she reached her hand out imperiously, making grabby fingers at the chocolate just beyond her reach. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” she said softly, eyes growing fond as she looked up at him over the top of her chocolate. 

Stiles reached down and flicked her big toe. He looked at the food, considering it, and popped one last piece of cheese before wiping his hands on his jeans and tugging her foot closer to begin massaging it. 

“I don’t know what I would do without these nights,” she added, her voice earnest in ways she rarely was. 

Digging his thumb into the arch of her foot, he shook his head. “Not a concern you need to have. You’re Lydia.” He looked up and shrugged helplessly. “No universe exists where I would ever deny you anything.” 

“Except your chocolate.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her and pinched the skin between two toes in punishment until she yelped and jerked her foot nearly out of his grasp. “Just because you ate yours already…” 

“Okay, okay! I’m joking.” She smiled at him, her hair floating over her shoulders and picking up the light from the room. 

She really was beautiful. 

There were days he wished he could paint or do photography more advanced than putting instagram filters on a selfie. Just so he could capture her beauty for people generations from now to see. 

But they’d never see what he did. How the green in her eyes snapped and sparkled with the excitement of discovery. How her teeth gripped and tugged at her lip when she was frustrated or angry. How her skin would flush all over when praised. 

Her truest beauty was wasted on the world. 

He finished massaging her feet and then slid to the floor while she scooted in close behind him, her fingernails scritching over his scalp until he was nearly a puddle on the floor. Then there was the sound of paper ripping and he smiled, eyes still closed as he opened his mouth and waited like a baby duckling for her to place a tiny square of broken-off chocolate onto it. 

“Marco Polo?” she asked as he let the chocolate melt on his tongue. 

He made a happy noise and lazily lifted his lids when the intro music began to play. 

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered, already curled up behind him, her fingers idly running through his hair. 

Reaching back, he caught her hand and squeezed it. “Any time.” 

One day she would move out; it was the nature of roommates to do so. But until then, he had this: a beautiful friend, reasonably good wine, the taste of chocolate on his tongue, and a never ending Netflix queue. Life was sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> If anything I have written here is offensive or insensitive, please let me know so I can fix it -- both in the writing and in myself. <3


End file.
